LSD: Aftermath (Creepypasta)
Hello. Have you ever heard of a game called "LSD"? No? Good. Make sure it stays that way. I had always wanted to play that game. The idea of playing through a man's dream diary in video game form was appealing to me. But, with dreams, come nightmares. I still can't fully explain what happened in that game, and to be It had been 2 weeks since my best friend had returned to Japan, and brutally murdered a man, then slit his own throat. The media coverage in Japan was huge. An english man purposely travelling to Japan to kill a native? They ate it up. After a five week inquiry, my friend had been deemed to have no motive, and was simply slated as insane.honest, I don't want to. My mind recoils in horror when I try to remember the images I saw, the violence and the depravity far beyond normal human imagination. At the end of that hallway, I saw an internet link. I had been unable to read japanese, but my friend could, and did. And he had paid dearly. Shortly after, his body was returned to his family, and a funeral was arranged. I was invited of course, but I wouldn't go. I couldn't. I blamed myself for this whole thing. If I hadn't downloaded that game.. but it was far too late now. I kept the whole LSD business a secret from his family. I didn't want any of them suffering the same fate as my friend. The day of the funeral came, and went. A few days later, I visited his grave. "James Andrew, 1979-2011, taken before his time". Seeing his grave, gave me some perspective. Why had this happened? And for that matter, how? I had been the one playing the game, yet I was practically untouched, well, except for the nightmares. Not long after my friend had left, the nightmares had began. They always started the same way. Standing in that fucking Japanese house, a replica of the beginning of the game. I looked around nervously, expecting the Grey Man to appear, however, he never does. The nightmare ends shortly after, but each consecutive time, the house is a little more aged. Floorboards start to rot, windows smashed, TV broken, or gone. It's building up to something, I know. On my friends grave, I decided my plan. I would find out who had placed that "Message" in the game, and why. Back home, I realised I was more alone than I had ever been. How was I going to do this on my own? I couldn't read Japanese, let alone speak it. What would I do if my investigations led me to Japan? So, it was with a heavy heart, that I called Marcus. Marcus was one of my other friends. He was exactly like James, heavily experienced in the Japanese language, and highly informed about all forms of Japan's culture. I started to think of what to say. "Hey, Marcus! You know James? It's my fault he died! Want to help me find the imaginary ghost of a PlayStation game?" No. I couldn't be straight with him, at least not at first. I'll get him to come over first, and then deal with the truth when he was here. I called his mobile. It rung a few times, then he answered. "Hello? Nick?" His voice was heavy with sorrow. "Marcus, could you come over? I need to tell you something." "Couldn't you just tell me over the phone?" "No. It's about James." "I'll be right over." He pulled up in his car 20 minutes later. I let him in, and he slumped down on the sofa almost immediately. I spent the next hour telling him everything about the game, about the images on the walls, the internet link, the grey man and James leaving for japan after reading the message. Listening quietly throughout, he finally spoke up. "It sounds like bullshit, but I can't help but feel there's something to it. Do you still have the message written down?" I fished the paper I had wrote the translated message on, out, and handed it to him. He read in complete silence, eyes scanning the page. "This is the message? It sounds like some crappy horror story." He said, throwing the paper onto the coffee table. "You said he read this, and then left?" "Yeah." "I just read it, and I don't feel any different." He was right. The message had no effect on him, nor me. The more I thought about this, the more I started to realise. The message only has any effect when it's in Japanese. Marcus agreed with me, theorising that since the game was never released in english, the message was never intended to be read in english. Over the next few hours, we searched the internet for any reports of other incidents involving the message. We found nothing. After checking the wikipedia page, we discovered the dream diary the game was based off, had been released as a book about the same time as the game. After finding a somewhat expensive copy, we bought it, and waited. A week later, the book arrived. I sat on the sofa, listening as Marcus translated for me. "1997, June 04. I've been having that dream again. He tells me things about himself now, about what he was before this. Genzo Kurita. That was his name. He tells me of the horrible things he did, the rapes, the murders, the random acts of violence he committed against innocents. Finally, in 1952, he was caught, and executed in 1959. He whispers to me, that death did not stop him, that he has killed more since. I will not sleep tonight." We sat in silence afterwards. After a few minutes, Marcus broke the silence. "All the other entries were normal. That was the only one like that." He said, staring at me in disbelief. "Who is this "Genzo"?" I said. Neither of us could offer an explanation. A quick search of Wikipedia offered an explanation. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genzo_Kurita Genzo was real. As we read the page, I noticed coincidences. Genzo had killed eight people. I saw no less than eight deaths in the pictures in the game. Marcus and myself are going to Japan in a week. We need to find Hiroko Nishikawa, and ask him about his dreams, and Genzo. I hope I can write another update when we arrive. - Nick. Category:Fan Fiction